


A Lovely Evening

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Pre-Slash, Relationship Negotiation, Sex Work, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Clint plays a call-boy on a mission, Clint and Phil discuss a transaction of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Prostitution / Sex Work

Phil Coulson and Clint Barton were in Director Fury's office.

"First of all," said Fury, standing behind his desk with a folder in his hand, "I want to make it perfectly clear that either or both of you are completely free to decline this assignment without giving any reason why, and there will be absolutely no repercussions if you do so. You especially, Agent Barton. Is that clear?"

"Who do you need me to fuck, sir?" laughed Clint, with a swagger and a leer.

"Hopefully it won't come to that, but if it does, would you be willing?"

That stopped Clint cold.

"Maybe you'd better explain the mission, sir."

"We've been tracking the target for months. We believe she has in her possession a piece of Hydra technology that could be extremely dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. Whenever she is in New York, she is in the habit of engaging the services of one particular high-end male escort service."

Clint swallowed and shot a sidelong glance at Coulson, who seemed as cool and collected as usual.

"We selected six experienced field agents who were suitable for this mission and inserted their profiles into the escort service's database. She chose you, Agent Barton."

Barton didn't put very much effort into not preening. "Who was I up against?"

"That's not relevant. What is relevant is that, assuming you're willing to accept this mission, you have a date tonight at 7pm."

"Oh, I'm in. Totally in, sir."

"Agent Coulson, are you willing to act as his handler for this mission?"

"Well, someone obviously needs to keep an eye on him. Yes, sir."

"Right, here's the case file." Fury handed it Coulson. "Barton report to wardrobe and then to the audio-visual department for your gear. Dismissed. Agent Coulson, a word." 

Clint grinned cockily at Coulson as he turned and left. Once the door had shut behind him, Coulson raised his eyebrows at Nick Fury.

"You think he's going to be able to handle this?"

"Yes. He'll be fine. He's surprisingly good at undercover, can turn on the charm when he wants to, and he has always been completely professional in the field when it's important."

Fury nodded, "And you're sure you're OK with it?"

"Fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, Phil, no reason at all." Fury waved a hand in dismissal as he settled behind his desk and picked up another file.

At a quarter-to-seven that evening, Clint was sitting at a hotel bar, nursing a beer, watching the door, and carefully not glancing over to the corner of the bar where Coulson was at a small table with a half-drunk beer, a half-eaten plate of wings, and his laptop, looking for all the world like just another weary business traveler. 

Clint was wearing a deep purple silk button-down shirt with tailored black trousers and a jacket. The shirt's top two buttons were undone, revealing a gold chain and hinting at the tanned expanse of broad chest. There was a diamond stud in one ear, and a gold pinkie ring on one finger. Barton had argued with the wardrobe department about rings.

"I can't shoot wearing one. It throws off my aim!" 

"But according to the mission brief, you won't be armed at all for this mission - no bow, no gun."

"First, no bow and no gun does not mean I'll be unarmed, and second, it doesn't matter if I have a weapon on me or not, I still might need to shoot. The point is I'm not comfortable wearing rings so I'm not doing it."

They had finally compromised on the loose pinkie ring that Clint could discard in less than a second, if necessary.

And he was right about not being unarmed. As well as his personal throwing knives that he was expert at concealing in just about any outfit, he was being issued with three different ways to administer a strong, quick-acting sedative. The plan was for him to knock out the mark and then search her hotel room for the item in question.

"What if she wants to go to my room, instead?" Clint had asked Coulson.

"Unlikely, women usually feel more comfortable in their own rooms. But if that does happen, you take her to your room, knock her out, grab her keycard, and go do the search."

"Got it."

"I'll be ears-on the entire time, and be sure to plant the camera as soon as you possibly can if you end up in her room." Barton's room was already wired for sound and pictures. Coulson would stay in his spot in the corner of the bar with his laptop, monitoring the entire operation. Due to its sensitive nature, Coulson was the only SHIELD agent on comms, though he could, of course, call in a back-up team at a moment's notice.

A shapely brunette in a green dress came through the door, and Clint muttered quietly,

"Game on."

Phil had been absolutely right when he had told Fury that Clint could turn on the charm. He did an excellent impression of a professional New York sex worker, with just enough 'aw shucks, ma'am' Midwestern farm boy background to be interesting. The mark, who had introduced herself as Sharon, certainly seemed to think so, with the way she started pawing him almost immediately. She had a martini at the bar while Clint finished his beer, exchanging small talk about what business brought her to New York, how terrible the traffic was, and what Clint thought of the current exhibition at the Met, with one hand on his thigh the whole time. Phil was almost relieved when she suggested they head up to her room, because it would give him a break from watching Clint smile and flirt and pet the woman shamelessly.

He had second thoughts when the sounds coming over the comms made it quite clear that they were the only two occupants in their elevator. Once they were inside her hotel room, however, she was suddenly all business. 

"Jacket and shirt off, please."

"Sure thing. Anywhere in particular you'd like me to put them?" Clint said, already slipping out of his jacket and looking around as if searching for a hook.

"Anywhere - that chair is fine." Clint took the opportunity of having his back to her to plant a micro camera on the framed picture hanging by the chair. On his laptop screen, Phil suddenly had a close up view of Clint unbuttoning the silk shirt, and swallowed. Clint dropped the shirt on top of the jacket and flashed a wink and a grin at the camera before turning back to 'Sharon'.

"Stand here please," she directed him to stand in the middle of the room, near the foot of the bed. She walked around him once, her look was more assessment than appreciation. 

"Well, you do actually look as good as your pictures on the website. Possibly better. That's a first. They're usually airbrushed."

"Thank you." Clint kept the 'shucks, ma'am' grin in place.

She walked around him again, this time letting her hands roam over his chest and back. Over the comm link, Coulson could just hear the contented humming sound that Clint made as her hands skimmed across Clint's pecs and brushed his nipples.

'How good an actor is he?' wondered Phil, 'Or maybe he is really enjoying himself - he is bi after all, and she is quite beautiful.' He knew the hot stab of jealousy he was feeling was completely irrational, and shoved it aside, forcing himself to concentrate on the mission, rather than the fact that Clint Barton was currently having his nipples tweaked by a beautiful woman.

"Unzip me," she said, turning her back to Clint. He raised his hands to her nape, used one to carefully hold her hair away, and lightly brushed the back of her neck with his lips before slowly lowering the zipper of the dress. When she didn't move or give him any further instructions, he leaned in to kiss the exposed flesh between her shoulder blades.

"Very nice," she said, "You're good."

Clint Barton was very good. As the mark raised her arms to slip out of the dress, his hand was in his pocket for the tiny syringe of sedative. He drove it neatly into her neck near the shoulder, then dropped it and was ready to catch her wrists as she turned on him,

"What the fu..."

Clint held her as she struggled weakly for a few seconds before collapsing, caught her as she fell, and laid her on the bed. He took a second to straighten the front of her dress where it had slipped off one shoulder.

"She's out boss," Clint said to Coulson.

"I can see that. Well done."

"Thanks. I'm going to start looking for the thing now. Keep an eye on her for me, will, ya. Let me know if she moves at all?"

"Yes. Take your time, - the dose you gave her is supposed to keep her under for at least two hours."

It only took Clint 20 minutes to find what he was looking for, under the false bottom of a large make-up case that was sitting on the suite's bathroom counter. He took it into the bedroom and held it up for the camera.

"This looks like it boss."

"Yes. Good work. Clear the room and meet me in the bar."

Clint made quick work of wiping down every surface in the hotel room with a damp towel before putting his shirt and jacket back on and pocketing the camera and dropped syringe. Then he leaned over the bed, checking that the mark's pulse was strong before rolling her onto her side and zipping her dress back up.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, dear."

Clint closed the door behind him softly.

He was feeling cocky as he slipped onto the barstool next to Phil Coulson.

"Hey sailor, come here often?"

"Not really. You?" Clint was surprised at Coulson's response, expecting to get a deadpan glance or a mild rebuke. He wanted to see where this was going, so he answered,

"Only when I want to meet someone."

"And are you looking to meet someone now?" Phil wasn't quite sure why he was playing this game with Clint, or how far he was willing to take it. But watching him with 'Sharon' had made Phil almost desperate to at least try to find out whether or not his stupid crush on Clint was hopeless.

"I could be, if someone was interested. $100 an hour, $500 for the night." Clint was pretty sure that that would make Phil break character, laugh at him, and then they could have a beer together before calling it a night. But that wasn't really what he wanted to happen...

Coulson turned, looked Clint straight in the eye and said, "And if I took $500 out of my wallet and put it on the bar in front of you?"

Clint swallowed, but held Phil's gaze steadily. "I've got the keycard for a very nice hotel suite in my pocket."

Phil looked down at where his hands were folded together on the bar rail, and asked softly, "And what would it mean?"

Clint's head spun. It sounded like they were negotiating having sex, and Coulson... Phil wanted to know how serious he was, and whether it would mean something if they did. Clint had no idea.

"I don't know."

"You need to decide that before we continue this conversation."

Clint was quiet, and Phil sat next to him, eyes still on his folded hands. After two minutes Coulson climbed off his bar stool, picked up his laptop case, and said,

"See you at the office."

"Yeah," said Clint, and watched his back as Coulson strode out of the bar. Clint signaled the bartender and ordered a beer. He had a lot of thinking to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my patient and understanding editor t!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
